


the wacky misadventures of the fox and his witch

by ExyCherry



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gen, Neil is a fox, That's it, andrew is a witch, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExyCherry/pseuds/ExyCherry
Summary: Andrew is a witch looking for a familiar. That's it.
Relationships: Andrew Minyard & Other(s), Betsy Dobson & Andrew Minyard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99
Collections: AFTG Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FaiaSakura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaiaSakura/gifts).



> Written for the lovely @FaiaSakura as part of the AFTG Gift Exchange!

_ Choosing a familiar is a very personal process, Andrew. You will have each other until death. Goddess forbid the arrangement from turning sour. _

Bee’s words were a compass in Andrew’s mind as he made his way to The Foxhole Familiar Agency. Their reputation was less than stellar, but Andrew trusted Bee’s judgement. She was one of few witches with any sense left.

The Foxhole Familiar Agency was certainly a sight to behold. The exterior was overtaken by plants, even so far as little weeds poking through the brickwork. The walls were crumbling, and quite frankly, it looked like a dump. If Bee hadn’t spoken so highly of it, Andrew would have turned right around and gone home.

_ Not everyone chooses a familiar, you know. It’s alright if you don’t. But if you do, make sure you feel it is right. _

The bell above the door gave a feeble chime when it opened. The agency itself was bustling with activity, both witches and familiars scuttling to and fro with no clear sense of purpose; yet there was still a semblance of order that permeated the air. 

A soft-looking woman with silver hair smiled brightly from the reception desk. Looking closer, Andrew could see different colored strands marbling the silver. As he made his way to the desk, a cat jumped up onto the rainbow girl’s desk. It was fluffy and white, with a demeanor that screamed  _ Better than you! _ An interesting choice of familiar for such a passive-looking witch.

“Andrew Minyard,” Andrew said. “I have an appointment.”

“Minyard!” the rainbow girl said brightly. “You’re Betsy Dobson’s son, right?”

Andrew nodded. Bee had adopted him and his twin brother, Aaron, when they were nine. She was a better mother than all the others before her combined. Aaron still didn’t trust her much, but he wasn’t nearly as skittish now as he was ten years ago.

“Great! Just have a seat and someone will come for you in a minute.”

Andrew nodded again and sat in one of the plush sofas, colored a garish shade of orange that clashed with the clean white walls and light wooden flooring. Absolutely ghastly. It disgusted him to look at for more than a few seconds, so he picked up a magazine from the end table to his right. Unfortunately, it happened to be a copy of  _ Exy Weekly.  _ Andrew set the magazine back with a displeased grunt.

After what felt like an eternity, a tall, dark-skinned man with tattoo sleeves on both forearms said his name, nodding his head towards another door. Andrew followed after him wordlessly.

_ You’ll know when it’s right. _


	2. Chapter 2

Neil didn’t speak; that is, he refused to communicate with any of the witches outside of body language. It presented some barriers. He seemed most comfortable with Matt, one of the unpaired witches working for The Foxhole Familiar Agency. He also seemed to have some camaraderie with Renee’s familiar, Allison. He was a strange creature, indeed.

Strange also was his unwillingness to choose a witch. Renee theorized that he had been falsely bonded before, and was protecting himself from further harm. None of the Agency would push him to choose; he could choose if he so pleased. 

It surprised Renee and Matt both when Neil showed an interest in Andrew Minyard. He was certainly very hostile on the outside, something that ordinarily would turn away even the more sociable familiars. Perhaps there was a certain kinship between the pair. Strange indeed.

Andrew left the Agency without a familiar, but with an appointment to return in three days. In the time between visits, Neil was back to his uncertain and limited interactions with the others, not that there were many objections. So long as the fox kept well enough out of trouble, they paid him no mind. 

When Andrew returned, Neil was already waiting for him.


	3. Chapter 3

_ Months later _

Andrew sighed and raked a hand through his hair. It wasn’t like Neil to be gone for so long, especially given their magical bond. But he could feel his familiar’s life force, hearty and thriving, so he felt partially eased by that. 

He turned his attention back to his worn journal and its well-loved pages filled with magic and herbs and a happy combination of the two. Andrew’s particular brand of witchcraft was best described as the potion-making type, though he was by no means an inadequate spellcaster. He found solace in the repetitive nature of finding, cataloguing, and tagging plants he couldn’t safely grow for himself; preparing said plants; and experimenting with new combinations to add to his journal for future use.

Neil was never any help with his herbs; if anything, Andrew had to keep a wary eye on his familiar and his penchant for eating less-than-edible items. He had caught the fox pawing at a bush of deadly nightshade just last week, and no amount of mischief could bring Andrew to scold him. In truth, he cared for his familiar quite deeply, not that he would ever admit it.

“Where are you, little fox?” Andrew mused to himself, placing his journal face-down on his desk. He paused, momentarily believing he heard footsteps, but it proved to be no more than his imagination. He sighed again and stood; perhaps a short walk would do him good.

There were muddy paw prints on the floor of Andrew’s cottage. Dried, likely from Monday’s storm. Andrew made a mental note to scrub them up. He toed on his shoes, grabbed his satchel, and made his way into the dense forest behind his home. 

It was cool and damp, but not unpleasant, as Andrew walked the heavily traversed path through the thicket of trees. Every so often a flash of color would catch his eye, ribbons he had used to mark off certain plants he couldn’t grow for himself. A plot of nightshade winked from his left, ever enticing him to embrace its dark qualities and abandon the life he had built for himself on the base of neutrality. Andrew passed right on by.

As he walked, he collected various plants he knew needed restocking, even stopping to pick some strawberries for his wayward familiar. Neil was a fiend when it came to fruits; Andrew didn’t understand the appeal. But they made Neil happy, and that was enough.

Andrew found himself taking a different path diverging off the central path, a much denser section of the wood he had not yet explored. It was just as well that he took the new road, he supposed, tagging several of the plants he came across and marking them in his field journal. He’d been searching for a new honeysuckle tree since his prior source had been destroyed in a particularly violent storm. He couldn’t very well justify harvesting its flowers while it was still weak and recovering, and it would make it much more difficult to heal it while simultaneously taking more from it.

While tagging a low-sprouting herb, Andrew’s eyes were drawn to a fresh set of what appeared to be fox prints.  _ Not just any fox. Neil’s.  _ Curious, he decided to follow them and see where they led. As he walked, he began to notice little spots of red in the leaves.  _ Blood. _

Andrew soon came across a clearing surrounded by raspberry bushes, and asleep in the center was none other than his familiar. Andrew set his satchel down and crouched beside Neil; Neil with the red coating his muzzle, in his fur, on his paws. But the consistency was all wrong. A slow, unassuming grin teased at Andrew’s lips.

“Neil,” he said, gentle but firm. The fox began to stir. “Neil, wake up.”

Ever a master of the dramatics, Neil slowly blinked awake and stretched out. The red covering his body wasn’t blood, but rather, raspberry juice.

“Stupid fox,” Andrew said, not unkindly. 

Neil sat up and focused his unwavering stare on Andrew; who, in turn, took Neil by the sides of his face and rested their foreheads together.

“I thought you left,” Andrew said quietly. Neil huffed and pulled his head back.  _ I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye _ , he thought. Andrew smiled again.

_ I didn’t think you would, _ he replied, then stood to collect his satchel.  _ Come on, I want to go home.  _

_ Lead the way, ‘drew. _

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @cherry-scones-and-exy-thrones


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